


Ben meets Gabe

by romanticalgirl



Series: December Ficlets 2010 [4]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Southland
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 1-1-11</p>
    </blockquote>





	Ben meets Gabe

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 1-1-11

“You’re arresting me?”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“Disturbing the peace. Inciting a riot. Peeing on my car.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t protest after the last one, but given that Ben walked up to him mid-stream, he really doesn’t have a leg to stand on. Even though he’s got legs that go from the ground to way the fuck up there. Not that Ben’s looking. “In my defense, it smelled like a urinal.”

“Yeah, because drunks like to pee on it.”

“I am not drunk.”

“No?” Ben pulls one hand behind the guy, taking a minute, since the guy’s being pretty agreeable, to focus on his fingers. Long and tapered and…Ben cuts off the thought right there. “What would you call it?”

“Happily inebriated. Trust me, I’m a musician, this is nowhere near drunk.” He turns his head to the side and looks at Ben. “I could tell you stories. Drunk tour stories. Make your hair turn white. You heard of Fall Out Boy? I could tell you shit about them to make your head spin.”

“Not my musical genre, I’m sorry to say.”

“Let me guess. Country. Bluegrass. No. No. You’re jazz.” The guy has an accent, but it’s not Mexican, and not quite Spanish. Ben can’t place it, but it’s another thing that’s making Ben get ‘arrest’ and ‘molest’ mixed up in his head. “You’re one of them arty shits, right? You go to clubs to drink and pick up hot girls in short skirts, but you say you don’t like the music, you prefer like, fucking Mozart or whatever.”

“Heavy metal,” Ben informs him as he cuffs the second wrist. He can picture those fingers on a piano or a guitar and he shifts back a little to keep any obvious signs of arousal from getting him in trouble. “And you’re wrong.”

“How’s that?” The guy grins cheekily as Ben puts him in the car, going easily with the grace of someone who’s probably done this before. 

Ben needs to shut up, but something about this guy gets under his skin. He shrugs and leans in for a moment. “It’s not the hot chicks I pick up.”


End file.
